When I finally clawed to the surface of the nightmares, I found that I was crying. Dark, tear-blurred shapes shifted around in the corner of my vision. Straight ahead-- and possibly up-- I had no sense of direction-- the wall or ceiling was grey stone and smudged with soot. Not my room. There was the sticky bad taste of too-long sleep in my mouth and a hollow feeling in my stomach. Maybe I was hungry. Maybe I was still sick. I choked on a sob and felt immediately after the single movement of all the blurry figures in my direction.
Someone screamed she's awake, and someone else grabbed me into a hug, forcing me upright from the bed until another figure pulled them away, and someone was calling me Morie and someone else repeated Morane, Morane--
"Lady Thief--" I heard whispered with a tug on my hand, which I pulled away unthinkingly, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes, flinching away from fingers smoothing my hair and touching my shoulder and trying to wipe the tears from my face.
"Stop," I muttered into my hands, not knowing who it was directed at. Maybe at myself. The tears kept coming. "Stop," I repeated desperately to someone's touch on my cheek, a poke in my arm, a tug at my blanket. I pressed my back against the wall, twisting the blankets hopelessly around my legs like a trap net. Sam was leaning towards me, concern on his face, Cara half on the bed radiating relief, Nick clutching at my hand as I tried to pull away from everyone.
"Are you okay?"
"What's wrong?"
"What happened?"
"Drink this."
And then in the middle of the too-loud confusion of people and unfamiliar healer apprentices Jaden emerged, shutting the door behind him with a soft click that silenced everyone. Voice polite as always, he inquired, "Is this the proper way to behave in a sickroom?"
Sam was too flustered to answer, by the coolness of his voice or simply his complete unaccountability, and Nick stared at him with an open mouth.
"You--" He jerked his head at the apprentice who had been shoving a cup of something thick and green in my face. "Thank you. You may leave."
"B-but--"
Jaden paid no attention to his stuttered objection. "Guardsman, if you could find some water?"
Nick had to look twice around the room to make sure he was in fact the one being addressed but left looking only slightly bemused. It took more than a stranger in a black cloak giving orders to shake him. With him, I noticed, went Kemp, like a miniature shadow, slipping out of the room after casting one wide-eyed look at Jaden. He didn't seem to notice.
"Good. Now, what's wrong?"
I could only shrug helplessly in response, dragging a hand over my wet face.
He frowned, then moved Sam out of his way with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "My lord, if you could step aside..."
Sam jumped slightly, surprised less by the title and more by the lack of sarcasm or contempt in it. How, I wondered, had a man from the lower city recognized the king's son in a guard's uniform? He wore no jewelry or royal mark, and none of his features were his father's. He must have, we had always assumed, looked only like his mother.
Jaden drew up the chair beside the bed and sat, setting a small leather bag by his feet. A bag of tools, I realized, just like my own. I didn't bother to ask how he had gotten into the castle.
"Have you spoken to the Sage?" He asked, voice low.
"I just woke up." I sniffed, and wiped my eyes again ferociously.
YOU ARE READING
The Royal Thief
FantasyEnter a dangerous, magical realm on the brink of rebellion, where the loyalty of the Guardians means power... or death. What happens when one Guardian turns her back on the Heir? Can Solangia survive? Or will it be pulled apart by scheming nobles an...